XLI

Everyone who had been with Severus had known how it happened—and for that matter, how could they ever forget it? It was a sudden outburst, a candle's flame turned wildfire in an instant. The incident happened during the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Transfiguration period. Regulus sat directly parallel to Severus, starring at the back of his neck as McGonagall droned on about advanced human transfiguration. Severus lolled about in his seat, his quill lazily looming over his parchment scroll. Regulus knew that McGonagall's drab lesson was painful to listen to, however Severus was not one to meander in the world of fantasies and day-dreams. Slowly, Regulus watched as Severus' face contorted with ill expressions; a quivering lip was housed by a grey tinted façade. He worried for his friend, before looking back down to his paper stressing about the fact that he had been rendered oblivious to what McGonagall had just said.

It was then that Severus had begun to twitch—his fingers falling to the irate sensation first, and then his arms, legs and finally, his core. Those who had noticed hadn't an ounce of sympathy in them to even begin to care about their peer. Instead, they continued their mindless scrawling upon parchment and sometimes even onto their worktables. McGonagall put her lecture on pause, looking out to the students and holding her breath in. The scratching of quills filled the room to the brim. It was like nails against a chalkboard, pulling at Severus' auditory senses and tugging at the strings of his will. What this noise had caused him to do next, no one had expected.

McGonagall had just separated her lips to speak, when he stood abruptly, knocking his ink-well over, and crushing his quill beneath his feet. As far as Regulus knew, Severus had been influenced by the steep downturn his life had taken. He held his breath, waiting for his friend to sit back down and sheepishly excuse himself for making a spectacle. McGonagall starred Severus down with her piercing green eyes, which Regulus knew had automatically made the situation escalate even further.

"Mr. Snape," McGonagall began, her voice as frightening as a drill sergeant's, "Sit down now, lest you be willing to serve detention for disturbing my class."

It was then that Severus did what was least expected of him—not that it had matter to his classmates. He swept through the room like a cold winter wind, traveling from his seat to the door of the classroom. His hair curtained his stoic face, hiding the emptiness it possessed. His hand was pressed firmly to the chestnut door, his fingertips whitening from the pressure he exerted unto them. Just as he left he whispered in brooding voice that never ceased to leave anyone's ears, "Good-bye."

It wasn't the good-bye that implied that they would see him once more. It was the type of good-bye that defined the meaning of "forever". Whether he was set out to commit horrific suicide or become an isolated introvert in an unknown corner of the world, they knew nothing of his intent. His classmates were left with the feeling that they would not see him again, and no one did anything to stop him—not even Regulus, who sat wide-eyed and trapped in the vast ocean of consuming thought, drowning in it for he hadn't the sense to react. He was choking on all the words that he should have been able to utter. The door clicked shut, and Regulus too was left with the sense that nothing could be changed: Severus' will was irreversible to them all.

Sir Nicholas was haunting the halls that noon, his ghostly figure hidden in the shadows. He had spied Severus determinedly treading straight to the entrance served exit and on into the vast unknown. Yet like the students, Headless Nick did nothing to stop this man on his voyage of fate. Severus looked up at the ceiling—his way of bidding farewell to this palace-like institution, Nick assumed. Nick then too looked up to the ceiling, but very unlike Severus he flew straight up through the molded bricks and into the Gryffindor's cage. Severus continued on his path, on through the forest and into the rest of the world, be it magical or plain.

It was not that no one had noticed that Severus was absent from his classes, it was more so that he had failed to make a difference in everyone's daily lives—none that they had assumed at that moment. The student body and teachers had taken a greater blow: Dumbledore was gone, gone like paper fallen to flames. Not a note was in sight, the Ministry was dumbfounded and utterly clueless to the man's whereabouts.

McGonagall had claimed the position as Headmistress with a chilly sigh that swept through the halls of Hogwarts. She sat in Dumbledore's very desk, dealing with the paperwork he failed to complete, her ear full of the Minister's incessant babbling on about how she was a step down from Dumbledore—and a woman no less. A sexist prick, though he irrefutably was, he was right—she was not Dumbledore, and could not perform magic with the flick of a wrist that even she would be in awe at. At best, she could hold the position until Dumbledore came back. She was certain of his return, if nothing more.

In honor of that institution, she kept his office the same, his desk mounted with papers, the bookshelves bursting with books and Fawkes crooning and twittering on his perch. She had even managed to leave be the empty spot in the bookshelf—a wide, stark area filled with an ominous shadow. 'What had laid there before?' she wondered, but the brushed it outside. It was best to get back to the mounds of mountainous paperwork.

'Ah, Dumbledore, why did you have to leave, leave the school and brush it aside like a trivial and meager beggar? You were so dedicated to these walls, this home, your home, our home, that you had took on your shoulders. Wherever you are, is it worth it—leaving this behind? I can't imagine that it is, but maybe in a bizarre and demented way, it is to you.'

It was a dreary and moist afternoon. For weeks the sky had been a depressing shade of slate blue, and the sun had been hiding beneath the clouds. No matter how deficient the sun was, the drapery in Lily's room was shut closed, seemingly fastened closed with industrial strength adhesives. Her friends had visited her throughout rainy month of April, inquiring as to why she was recluse. Her answer was almost always an unwavering, "I'm tired" or even, "I've just been feeling under the weather lately." Recently the answers had reduced to sighs and sobs.

Sirius entered her room this time. Her room was blanketed by darkness, and coated with Lily's dejection—a syrup so thick that it coated Sirius' heart with its overpowering anguish. He flicked the light switch on, and walked to the nest of blankets that covered Lily.

"Turn off the lights, please," Lily rasped in a bare whisper.

He did as she asked. "It's Sirius," he chose to announce then. "Do you mind if I stay for a bit? I felt like you could use a friend."

"It's not a problem."

He sat on the edge of the bed, a single hand placed on Lily's shoulder. "Come out from underneath the covers." Lily rustled bit before she poked her head out. "So that's what you look like!—I had nearly forgotten your pretty face." He smiled at her, hoping that she would muster one back.

Lily bit her lip, not able to smile. How long had it been since she had attended a class? Severus had left Hogwarts, and so she saw no point in attending any class. No matter how the professors tried to break the charms she had placed on her room, they could not. Not even Flitwick could begin to calculate the great precision and care that had went into building her prison cell. Only three people could get through—Sirius, Alice and Severus (though she knew he would never come). Dumbledore was not in Hogwarts; McGonagall was not adept enough to get her to attend a class by sheer force. So she laid in her bed until the sun rose and then set, wallowing in a pile of plush blankets that she was growing sick off. She would get a house elf to bring her food, and they would always do as she asked—especially since they were aware of the predicament she was in.

"Come on Lily, sit up for me. This is no way to spend your life. Don't make me hex you—I know a couple that you'll never forget." Sirius smiled hopefully; that same smile soon turned into a frown. When Lily didn't move, or even respond for that matter, Sirius took her from underneath the armpits and lifted her against the several pillows she used for her head. It was the end of the mighty month of May—a time where things should change for Lily, but only change for the better. It had gone on long enough. This bout of depression was to cease, and it was his duty to be the catalyst.

"Talk to me." Lily flashed a poisonous look at Sirius. "Say something. Open your mouth! Oi, just take a breath! Sweet Circe, can't you just look at me at the very least?!" He turned her head to face him—his Greek nose against her petite, ski slope. His grey eyes stormed over her own green, boring into them just as Snape's would have. For a moment they flashed to a deadly beetle black, and Lily's eyes softened in reaction. Sirius was willing to utter a name that had become taboo. It was time to use it against her. Sometimes you have to break a person first in order to fix them later.

"Severus. Snape." Lily's reaction was exactly what he had expected and more. To her, the name was for worse than 'Voldemort'.

She slapped him; a spark of life had burst into her, albeit a ferocious spark. "And what are you going to say to me? That he was a right bastard for leaving me, or that he was right in just dropping everything and running like—like some coward—like the coward he is! Hmm? Are you going to tell me that I should never have left Potter—that Snape was worse for me than any arrogant prat in the world? Huh? Do you think that you can just waltz in here and try to fix everything, to change the way I see things—the way this world is cold and as murky as ice? It's not that bloody easy. It's not even fucking right. I have every right in the world to lay here and die, if I so wish to."

"For one thing, Snape wasn't right or wrong. He has his own plan, and Merlin be with him if he's a big enough idiot to go through with it. Second of all I'm going to change the way you see things so that you can get your arse into those halls and finish your Hogwarts years, be it with or without Snape—life is not going to wait for you to pick yourself up; it goes on with or without you.

"Now don't go shooting down my Gryffindor pride. I'm meant to bloody fix people—ad I'm choosing to fix you, whether you're welcome to it or not. And by the way: I'm fixing you free of charge! Why? Because I love you, Lily—I love you, always have and always will. I love you because you're one of the last things I have left—you're one of the best family members I've ever had, and blood doesn't mean shite here. I'm not ready to leave that to rot. So yes, I'm here with my—oh what that thing Muggles believe in?—cape swishing in the air and super powers, ready to save you! I'm here to be your platonic Superman! Every lady loves a good Superman. I'm getting off topic. Oi!

"I think you're going to have a hard time getting James to worship you again. He's having a dandy time shagging Selene. And don't you go second guessing yourself—Snape's the right guy for you. The better a man is for you, the more it hurts when he's gone. And right now, you're ready to self-destruct, so I think that's a large enough sign to say that he's your one true love. With that being said, you'll have to learn how to function with him, until he comes back—believe me: He will be coming back for you.

"Brush yourself off, take a shower and get into the Great Hall for dinner. I'll even get the house-elves to make your favorite meals, if you cooperate. Most everyone misses you, and let's face it—James it a crap Head Boy without your masterful expertise!" When Sirius finished he was out of breath and red from the energetic monologue. He could not wipe the cheeky smile off of his face; it was going to stay there until Lily smiled back at him and long after that.

Lily looked away, focused on counting the floorboards instead of smirking at Sirius' speech. "Fine—but only because I can tell that you rehearsed that entire speech for me. But I won't enjoy myself, you hear?"

"Oh, you'll love what we have prepared for you tonight! You'll never want to sit around and mope again once the night's through. By the way—ditch the robes and put a dress on. You must have something here…" Sirius rolled onto the floor and reached under Lily's bed. "For you milady!" In his hands was a white box, tied with a bright blue bow.

"You should have gotten me anything." But what she was really thinking was, "How did you get that here?"

"One way to make a woman happy is to shower her with gifts."

Lily bopped him over the head. "A girlfriend, or a wife—not a friend."

"Dire circumstances call for desperate measures, my dear. I'm afraid that your cause exceeded dire. Now go ahead, open it. I didn't come here to give you a gift that you would not open!"

Lily apprehensively opened the package with care. Inside it was a simple, navy cocktail dress. She took it out of the box and unfolded it, revealing its beauty. "It's beautiful. I can't even accept this. Sirius, why?"

"Because, it's like I told you Lily—you're one of the last bits of family that I have left."

She hugged him, squeezing him tightly against her. "I can never apologize enough for what I've been like. I'm sorry for all of this."

"You would have done the same for me, if not more. It's time to move on, Lily. Move on and hope that everything will be alright later. Hope's something you'll never loose, if you don't let go of it first."

Before they knew it, it was time for Sirius to leave. "Well, I best be off. I'll see you at dinner." Before turning toward the door, "Oh, and Lily—don't be mad at Snape for what he's done."

"And why should I not be?" Lily was slightly offended, if not hurt by Sirius' place in this ordeal.

"Because he's done it for the best cause there is."

"And what would that be?"

"Everything he's done, he's done for love—for his love of you, Lily." Lily didn't have the chance to ask Sirius anything else; he was already out of the door.

And what of little Emma, who had been left, siting in a little room without her grandpa Albus and dear father, Severus? Naturally, she should have been worried, terrified about where her beloved father was and the man she called her "grandpa" only because he gave her all the sweets she asked for, and even more than she could ever dream of. A normal child would have been traumatized by the sense of abandonment. Even Lily, whom she one day hoped to call "mama" had not come to see her in weeks. The last time she had seen Severus was one night in April. He had read her a story, tucked her in, smiling like he always did and said, "I'll see you soon, kid." What exactly was soon? Somehow, Emma knew that soon meant in a long time.

She had waited for her father once, left sitting in a pool of dirt moistened by blood in her raggedy nightgown. He had come for her—a hero to the rescue. She had no doubt that he would come again, and until then she would love the house elves like the unconventional, slightly awkward substitute-caregivers they had become for her. She passed her days wandering about the castle, waiting until a house elf came shouting and running down the hall after her—and it was a humorous scene, indeed.

"Miss Emma, Master would not want you in the tower," Tibby would squeak, her wrinkled face turning puce. "No, no, no, he would not want you here! Come with me Missy Emma, we can play somewhere lower down." She would run, though it was startlingly similar to a duck's waddle, after Emma, down the stairs and through the kitchens as she milked the situation with her mischievous talents. At a terrifying two feet tall, Tibby could never catch Emma, no matter how she tried—but the important part of this was the fact that Tibby had tried.

Emma would be fine in Tibby's hands, for the meanwhile.

Lily smoothed the navy dress against her skin, worried about not having bothered to look in the mirror. She knew how she looked, tired to the bone and swollen all over—but nevertheless, she prayed that she looked presentable. What was awaiting Lily on the other side of the Dining Hall doors? Nonetheless, she knew it would be grand. Sirius was behind this. She expected nothing less from the party-prince.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. But it is here nonetheless. In a few weeks, the next chapter will be posted. Writing has become a slow process. Hope you liked this installment.